


The Stars' Desires

by likeboadicea



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Post-TLJ, Praise Kink, Smut, and i am NOT disputing that fact !!, anyway here's the sex in the silencer fic that no one asked for, but l i s t e n, like this is filthy why did i do this, now i know y'all say ben solo is the king of cunnilingus, oh bc the author was coffee drunk and listening to french ballads, sorry I don't make the rules - Freeform, that boy's mouth is sin and he would be the best dirty talker in the galaxy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-11 21:15:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15324495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likeboadicea/pseuds/likeboadicea
Summary: She is all he wants.He is all she wants.Let the stars have their own desires.





	The Stars' Desires

**Author's Note:**

> anyway here's the silencer smut thanks for listening to my ted talk

The Silencer is not designed for long distance travel, let alone long distance travel with _two_ occupants. In particular when the one-seater cockpit housed one individual who was just too distractingly large, in Rey’s opinion.

She oof’s out what feels like her one millionth sorry as her knee jars the control panel as she tries to yet again reposition. 

In Ben Solo’s lap. 

His expression reflects in the duraglass of the viewport, eyes as dark as the inky void of space. His only response is a tick of his jaw, gaze straight ahead to the smattering of stars before them. 

This had not been the expected plan when they targeted the First Order dreadnought hours earlier, sneaking onboard with the hopes of disrupting its memory banks – and perhaps planting a few faulty leads for the Rebellion, as well as some data encryption of their own. True, Ben had been the one insisting on reclaiming his personal fighter, after months – months? Had it already been so long since he’d joined their cause? – of muttered complaints of the few Rebellion crafts being too clunky for his Force-boosted piloting skills. But Rey’s get-away was meant to be aboard the Falcon, with Chewie and Finn and Rose, rather than perched here, on Ben’s lap, a leg bracketing either side of his right thigh, one hand delicately gripping his trousers for balance. 

A minor set-back, Poe had called it, when their cover was blown on the enemy craft, and the Falcon was forced to leave the system before picking her up at the rendezvous point. Rey supposed it could have been worse: she was still with Ben when the adjustment was needed, cutting down stormtroopers by his side with deadly grace, so there was no issue with meeting up with someone else to evacuate. Ben had merely responded to Poe with a snarled response of “We’ll manage,” his anger bleeding into the deep timbre of his voice. 

Since taking to the stars, they had lost the First Order fighters following them, and gotten in touch with Poe to confirm their safety, as well as discuss potential pick-up points. Now they were left to wait for the all clear to be approved, and a system selected, hopefully nearby. The Silencer was a fighter vessel, meant to be kept within range of a mothership. It had no hyperdrive for light speed. The pair of them may well be in for a very long flight.

Until then, it is just her, Ben, and the stars. 

It isn’t an uncommon occurrence, she and Ben alone together. They seemed to spend more and more of their days secluded together. Training in the morning before breakfast. Patrols in the afternoon—high command didn’t quite trust him enough to make rounds on his own yet. 

Nights in his bed.

She had made her way to his quarters, down the hall from his mother, one evening after dinner. Ben had been with them for a week by then. She hasn’t slept in her own bunk since. 

Ben shifts beneath her, sending her lurching forward with a grunt, her fingers spasming into claws around the fabric of his trousers in an attempt to maintain her position. His arms ease away from their previous position around her as he releases the control yoke, flipping a switch on the panel to ensure the ship maintains a steady potion. 

“How can I make this better for you? Be less—I don’t know, in your way,” Rey asks, looking over her shoulder to face him. He stiffens in response to her words, his large frame seeming somehow even stonier. “This can’t be comfortable for you,” she continues. “And I’m heavy—“

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about me.” 

“Well, you’re going to be singing a _very_ different tune if we’re still out here two hours from now and your leg feels like it was zapped by BB-8 when you’ve offended him.” 

“That was one time,” he bites out, pausing a moment while he works his jaw, as if mulling over his next words. “And I do not sing.” He makes it sound as if such a possibility is akin to finding solace in a Jakku sandstorm. 

A moment of silence passes before Rey can no longer hold back her snigger. “Was that a joke?” she asks in her most faux innocent voice. 

He snarls, which Rey has come to interpret as his own personal manner of pouting. “Fine.” And he promptly crosses his left arm in front of her to grab her right hip, while his right hand does the opposite from behind, and he _lifts_ her clear off him, almost banging her head on the domed ceiling in the process and earning and indignations “Oi—watch it!” from Rey. He twists her in mid air, kriff, her lizard brain enjoys _that_ display, and brings her back down facing him. From this angle her hips are pressed down on the area of his knees and her lower back threatens to jolt the control yoke if she isn’t careful. 

“Better?” Ben asks in that tone of his that suggests he already knows the answer to his question, and that the response would err in his favor. 

She echoes a hum in response, tongue in cheek as she offers him what she hopes is a playful look. “Almost.” 

Without breaking eye contact, she lets her knees dip deeper on either side of his hips, pulling herself up his deliciously long thighs. From here, she can comfortably drape her arms across his shoulders, and does just so, her blunt nails roving to scrape gently across the back of his head, marveling in the still-damp curl of his hair, the masculine salty tang of Ben and sweat slinging to him from the exertion of their escape. She wants to saturate herself in his scent, bathe in it, roll around in it, until it permeates her very pores and melts with her own.

“There. That’s better.”

Rey beams, her gaze dropping from his hair, expecting to meet his caramel-colored eyes mixed with that look of exasperation and affection she has come to anticipate from him whenever he has caught her doing something odd: picking porg feathers off his jacket to weave into a small crown for BB-8, stealing the last dewberry from his dinner tray, kissing him, slipping her tongue in his mouth, in front of his mother and her friends, enjoying the reaction of his darting gaze and red-tipped ears entirely too much.

Instead his gaze is dark, near black. Pupils blown. Predatory.

“This is a terrible idea,” he says, all ragged breath, even as his hands fall dangerously low on her hips, those giant fucking fingers of his already curling tantalizingly across the curve of her ass. 

“Is it?” Rey questions, eyes beguilingly wide, deft fingers moving to trace the sensitive shell of his adoringly large ears. The action earns her a visible twitch down his frame, a charm she discovered one morning two weeks ago, daring to laze late with him in his bed prior to breakfast. 

His breath hitches further. “Yes.”

“What are you gonna do about it?” 

The inquiry breaks him, no one to bear witness save her and the stars.

He lunges, overeager in the small space, and Rey must brace a hand on the ceiling of the cockpit to keep her balance as Ben’s lips crush against hers, the contrast of nipping teeth and lush lips – lips full and soft and positively created for kissing, sucking, pouting – sends a lick of heat straight down her spine to her core. 

Rey’s free hand finds his hair, tugging on the thick strands until he’s at an angle that pleases her, and she sets to work, the discomfort of her position entirely forgotten. Once, twice, she drags her lips across his, and then his tongue is breeching the seam of her lips. 

She wouldn’t pull away for all the stars in the galaxy. 

Their tongues partake in an ancient dance, twinning and sliding with deliciously wet friction as their hands roam to compliment the ritual, traversing cheeks and shoulders and elbows and pulling inward. Closer, closer, closer. He tastes like salt and stars, and Rey, dizzy on it, is certain she does the same. 

From her spot on his lap, she’s half a head taller than him and she finds she enjoys the planes of his face, the proud line of his nose down to the bob of his Adam’s apple, tilted upwards in supplication to her. She brings both hands to cup his jaw, thumbs brushing along his cheekbones while her littlest fingers trace the pulse of his heart along either side of his throat, and dips down closer to press her forehead against his, the tips of their noses meeting.

He’s mumbling against her lips, _Rey_ and _starlight, so good,_ and she keens, teeth sinking into his bottom lip and tugging, a move that earns her a sharp thrust of his hips. 

Time stands still, stretching a moment across heartbeats, their bond snapping into fierce awareness with their proximity. Rey feels the muscles in her core pulse around nothing, achingly empty in response to the weight of his cock pressed hard into the crease of her thigh, still separated by layers and layers and too many clothes. The balancing desire oozes out of him, the drive to fill, to press into her, their minds melting into a single conscious across their bond if they’re not careful, _hot wet tight so good so good the light so blindingly good—_

Rey’s vision blurs at the edges, the stars blurring like a hyperspace jump, overwhelmed at their combined sensations. She could come just from this. 

She must project that last thought exceedingly clear because he _snarls,_ his hand slithering from her hip to the band of her trousers, sliding beneath the fabric to her dripping arousal—

Home.

The supernova between them implodes.

“Are we really doing this?” He gasps, fingers tugging loose the belt cinched at her waist despite the hesitancy of his words. “In my starfighter?” _When did he become the responsible one?_

Rey pulls back like she has been branded by hot iron, eyebrow quirking up in self-conscious surprise. “Do you not want to? Of course, I’m being too forward, aren’t I? I misread the situation, I’m s—“

“Kriff, Rey, that better not be another apology on your tongue.” He curses internally at the omnipresent gruff cadence of his voice, the lack of dulcet sweetness that Rey deserves. She is unwavering and strong in all aspects of life, unabashedly herself, from returning to their room with engine grease obscuring her freckles, to the way she happily shoves food into her cheeks with her fingers during dinner, Ben adores it all. 

But somehow she manages to remain uncertain in intimacy, unpracticed from her solitary life on Jakku. The first time she had properly held his hand, not the brush of fingertips across the stars, but the intertwining of fingers, the brush of palms and knuckles and thumbs—she had stared hard at their interwoven digits, her tapered, calloused fingertips marveled and played with his own. She had shyly admitted she couldn’t recall so much as holding hands with someone before she met Finn.

An unwavering bolt of pure envy had hit him, that the ex-stormtrooper was her first in that regard.

He vowed to be her first in all other respects.

Ben tries again, voice barely more than a whisper. “Don’t apologize. I want to. I want _you._ I love when you’re forward, when you tell me what you want. We’re in this together, Rey.” There’s a pause as he brushes a kiss across her cheekbone. “You’re not alone. Tell me what you want.” 

She leans into the contact, and his caresses fall lower, finishing his work on her belt and dropping it carelessly to the side, completely taken by the loose flow of her unrestricted robes, gauzy over her slender form, teasing at her silhouette. 

“You,” she sighs, her own fingers plucking at the line of hooks down the center of his tunic.

“You’ll have to be more specific, starlight.” A swift tug berefts her of her blue-grey wraps. One of Ben’s hands quickly finds its way into her open tunic, rubbing over her nipples, still covered by her thin undershirt. 

Rey’s brain short-circuits, licks of pleasure interrupting her train of thought. Warm, warm, _stars,_ she’s too warm, and not warm enough, her fingers actively seek out Ben’s steady heat, freeing his torso from his restrictive black surcoat and finding him deliciously bare underneath. 

_I want your heart, your soul, your everything,_ she projects, cheeks stained red with how vulnerable the admission would sound aloud, too innocent for what their bodies yearn for, but he reads her sentiment across the bond. It affects him more than she imagined. 

Ben groans, pushing her tunic from her shoulders roughly and tearing the undershirt from her in his haste to reach her tan freckled skin.

“It’s yours,” he breathes, “Take it. Have it.” He palms her breasts, mouth open as he marvels over how soft her supple skin is, how her nipples prickle in the wake of his ministrations, stained from a gentle pink to a ruby red.

“Ben,” she moans, arching further into his touch.

“Tell me, Rey. Use your words. What do you want?” His fingers twists about her taunt tits, the exquisite pleasure-pain draws a whine from her mouth. 

“Touch me. Your—your fingers. My clit, Ben, please. Feel how wet I am for you.”

“Fuck, yes, starlight,” he rumbles, relinquishing his grasp on her tits only to replace it with his mouth, suckling languidly at her breast.

His hands don’t fall far, gripping her at the level of her ribcage and lifting. Rey has to angle her head down to her shoulder to make enough room for what she senses he intends. Ben takes his time before voicing it, enjoying how she enjoys his show of strength, his tongue circling about her nipple before gently biting down and tugging himself off, her skin red and shiny. Rey whimpers, her pulse fluttering wildly beneath his lips.

“Take your trousers off,” he says, switching to her neglected breast and providing it with the same eager treatment. “I want to see you. Just you.”

Rey makes the strip a tease of her own.

Starting at her throat, she slowly drags her hand down her own body, tracing the slight curve of her breast, fingertips grazing the corner of his occupied mouth, down the inward dip of her waist and over the outward flair of her hipbone. Her fingers play with the waistband of her trousers, flirting with the skin beneath the fabric only to pull back out. 

Ben’s lips are still very engaged with her breast, but her small hand has captured his gaze. He groans when she pulls away from the fabric entirely, even going as far as leaning away from him, earning a stubborn growl. 

She laughs, dimples adorning her cheeks. “Easy. I need to take my boots off. Unless you’ve changed your mind about wanting me naked?”

He takes the damn boots off himself. Followed by his own for good measure.

Settling onto her knees over him, Rey slowly pulls the soft fabric down her thighs. Ben can see the reveal of her peachy ass in the reflection of them in the red duraglass of the Silencer behind her. Despite the omnipresent chill of space, the temperature in the cockpit is rapidly climbing, the viewports fogging with their combined body heat, tracks of condensation leaving meteorite tails of clarity in the hazed view. 

Ben’s hands quickly falling to kneed her newly exposed flesh, prying apart her cheeks to graze his fingers between her legs from behind.

His fingertips come away damp.

“Eager,” he croaks, throat suddenly dry.

“For you?” She muses, bracing her weight on one knee to bare her opposite leg. “Always.”

Ben is done waiting. As she shifts to free her other leg, he brings a hand around to finger her slit, cursing audibly at the skin to skin contact and the wetness he finds there. He curves his fingers up inside, gathering her slick to lubricate his digits as he pulls out to circle the hood of her clit, working her up rather than diving in with direct contact. 

Rey hardly has the coherency to remove the final leg of her trousers, eyes pinched shut and mouth falling open as she rocks into his ministrations.

His fingers find a steady pace, circling her clit and then falling deeper between her legs to collect more wetness to spread before repeating the press around her bundle of nerves, circling in the opposite direction. Again and again and again until her little nub is erect, blushed red and peeking out from beneath its covering. When he flicks his thumb across it, Rey convulses in his lap.

Ben grins. “Can my girl manage to get my trousers off while she’s like this? My good girl will get rewarded, get her pretty little clit touched.” His thumb makes full contact to the bundle of nerves, rubbing a promise into her flesh.

She nods eagerly, clearly intent on making much quicker work with his trousers than she did her own, but the bump and grid of his thumb leaves her hands shaky and her mind distracted by the chase of bliss zinging up and down her spine. She barely gets his zipper down before her hands are simply pressing into his abdomen for support as she rides into his touch.

Tutting, Ben pulls his thumb back to idly trace the lips of her opening. “Forgetting something, starlight? Or are you ready for a break already?”

Rey growls, practically tearing the fabric from his thighs in her taste to comply. Once his legs are free, she expects him to slide the same hand forward to resume its attentions to her clit, but he surprises her. Instead, those fingers slide easily into her opening with a wet squelch, her muscles readily making way for the intrusion, while his opposite hand snakes around to roll her nub between thumb and forefinger.

It’s divine. Star shaking. 

His fingers jackhammer into her, curved to repeatedly catch on her g-spot, at odds with the slow roll of her clit. It would be embarrassing how quickly her walls are clamping around his fingers if she weren’t so far gone already, her pleasure compounded in a feedback loop of their Force bond, bridging threads from her to Ben and back again, binding her to him irrevocably.

Ben works her through her orgasm, his own breath coming in short, staccato pants, fingers gentler inside her and his opposite hand is back to circling around her clit to avoid overstimulating her. He presses open mouthed kisses to her lips, her glistening temple anywhere he can reach. “Kriff, you’re so beautiful,” he says. “Especially when you come. Fuck, starlight, look at the mess you’ve made of my thigh.”

His skin glistens where she had rocked against him, so close to his cock, bobbing proudly between her thighs, red and leaking at the tip. She reaches out to brush a thumb across him, smearing a bead of precum and he hisses, thrusting reflexively to chase after her touch.

Rey slips her hand beneath his, his fingers still buried in her cunt, and tangles their digits together inside her briefly, an oddly intimate gesture that leaves both of them moaning from the shared sensation of the extra stretch to her walls mixed with the brush of fingertips, a call to their first skin to skin contact. She hesitantly untangles their fingers and pulls hers out to cover his length in own wetness, pumping him slowly from bulbous head to base as she mixes her own slick with that of his leaking member.

With a curl of glee stroking up her spine, Rey ardently takes her turn at pleasuring her man.

“Look at you,” she murmurs as his teeth sink into his lower lip at the sensation of her hand on him, gazing at her moving fingers with wet eyes. Those lips as red and sugary as the sweetberries they were rationed last week. Rey relishes in the rush of power she holds over him. “You’ve got such a pretty dick, Ben. So good. So _big_.” She opens her hand and drags all her fingers along the vein on the underside of his cock. 

Ben whimpers. 

“Can I sit on your cock, Ben? Bounce on your lap? You’ll never be able to fly this thing again without thinking of how I look with you dicking up into me, huh? Not without getting hard.”

She’s right. He’s ruined. Her ghost will forever haunt the cockpit. The controls. He hopes her scent stains the pilot’s chair for all time. 

“Please, Rey. Gotta be inside you. Let me come inside, starlight. Please.” 

“Hmm,” she considers, pursing her lips as she languidly strokes him, up and down, up and down. “Since you beg so prettily,” Rey coos as she releases him on a twist and Ben wastes no time, his nerves shot and thoroughly done with teasing. His Force signature across the bond pulses erratically and if Rey wasn’t just as desperate for him as he is for her, she would have grinned in triumph at unhinging him so. 

He dips into her heat, the head of his cock coming away dewy with her slick, the motion accompanied by a wet squelch. Lewd. Perfect. The muscle beneath his left eye twitches, his mouth open in slack-jawed wonder as he leans back in with a snap of his hips, gaze intent on where his length is swallowed by her inch by inch. 

Rey’s skin is hotter than a dying star, perspiration slicking her hair to her temples. The Force curls about them tighter and tighter and galaxies explode behind her closed eyelids. “Ben,” she whines, desperate and clawing at the curve of his shoulder, pale as a moon and solid as durasteel. “I need—“

“I know.” Another twist of his hips, another hiccupped sob from Rey. _Tell me, tell me how—_

“Good, so good, so fucking good,” he slurs, pupils eating up his irises, reflecting the constellations behind her. “My girl, so good for me, so kriffing _light_ I’m almost scared to touch you.” 

“No!” she wails. Carnal. Desperate. “Touch me, touch me, please, touch me.” Her sweat-slicked hand find his and press them more tightly into her flesh, one on her hip, the other baring down on her lower abdomen, his thumb teasing the edge of her clit while the weight of his palm makes him feel impossibly bigger inside her. “For you, all of you. Touch me, please!” The last word drags up into a shriek as his thumb makes full contact with the bundle of nerves above her opening.

“Is that where you need me to touch you, starlight?” He croons, thumb tapping rhythmically against her clit. “On your pretty little clit?” She nods eagerly, her vocals only capable of wordless pants and wails that sound suspiciously like his name. “Ah, yes. I know just what my girl needs.”

There is a quick pinch of her swollen pink clit between his thumb and forefinger that Rey’s hips jerk in response to, seeking to both chase and escape the sensation of electricity jolting across her nerves, but Ben’s fingers don’t linger long. He twists his hand, his thumb remaining to rub circles at the sharp point of her pleasure while the rest of his fingers drag downward to tease at the drenched folds of her labia, stretched wide around him.

He groans, head falling to mouth at the juncture of her neck. Through the bond, Rey reads the appreciation he has for her swan-like form. He sees graceful edges in her long limbs where she previously only found gangly, calloused skin. Between his words, his tongue chases her pulse point, lapping at the softness of delicate skin spread thin over tendons and ligaments. “Is this all for me, starlight? 

“Yes, yes, yes!” she cries, the words echoing in the enclosed cabin, ringing into the void of space.

“Fuck, starlight. You beg so prettily,” he echoes her earlier sentiment. “That little pink mouth of yours is so talented, isn’t it?” His thumb brushes over her lower lip before hooking down, drawing her mouth wide open to leave her decadent sounds unhindered. “Let me hear you.” 

Rey has no words, reduced to vocalizations induced by the play of his fingers across her clit and his cock bumping against her cervix. It should hurt, overwhelm even, but her freedom to cry out her pleasure, to clutch at his biceps and glistening pectorals, offers an outlet to prevent the build-up of sensation. 

Her voice goes hoarse before too long, her chin and his lingering fingers holding her tongue flat are wet with saliva, and her eyes threaten to roll into the back of her head, but she’s still striving to reach that precipice. Her thighs ache with the effort of bouncing on his cock and tears prickle the corner of her eyes because she’s close, so kriffing close, but she needs—

“More,” she hiccups. “Ben, please more.”

He continues thrusting into her—once, twice, three more times—and then she feels the twitch of both his hands clench before they move to her waist, his thick fingers nearly meet at her front and back. There’s a sharp tug and he is flipping her beneath him, one of her heels drags across the control panel behind her, but neither of them can be bothered to check if anything has actually been pressed, and then he is looming above and between her thighs. 

The movement isn’t all practiced smoothness, like in the romantic holovids Rey has caught Rose watching a time or two. She nearly slides out of Ben’s slick grasp and he slips out of her with a wet pop. She gracelessly falls into the pilot seat with a keen of loss. Ben looks lost, torn between yelling and crying, his big eyes glassy and the lips of his gasping mouth tremble. She wouldn’t need the bond to know his berating thoughts – _stupid careful idiot can’t you be fucking gentle for once in your damn life you ruin everyth—_

“Ben.”

His gaze darts to Rey as tapered fingers trace his scar. An anointment starting from the center of his forehead, across his cheek, where her thumb playfully taps his lower lip further downward, encouraging freedom of sound, down his throat, and to his collarbone, where the trail morphs into lingers pets, occasionally dipping down to twirl about his nipples.

“Rey.” Her name is a plea, a prayer, an apology.

“Don’t go,” she says. “Stay here. With me. I need you.”

Ben whines in the back of his throat and nods, his hand gripping the base of his cock as he glides back inside of her. “I’m here, starlight.” He picks up a steady, sweet cadence, his hips slowly meeting the backs of her thighs and twisting once she has engulfed him completely. “I’ll never leave you.” 

“Promise?”

She knows its cruel to ask, to extract such a vow from him, but the lonely girl from Jakku needs to hear that he would never willingly part from her. That he wouldn’t leave her crying to come back, come back, come back—

“I promise, Rey.” His pace is steadily increasing, his palms pressing her legs higher, hoisting her calves over his shoulders to free his hands to palm her tits. “You’ll never be alone again.”

Her sobbed gratification of _‘thank you, Ben, thank you,’_ inspires him to press into her harder, deeper, better, the satisfaction of her pleasure spiraling into his own. His knees spread wider, offering more power to his thrusts while simultaneously opening her further to him. He can clearly see their point of connection, where her little pink muscles cling to him with every withdraw. Up higher, on every ingress there is a prominent bulge in her belly. Ben is transfixed, chasing the sight again again _again,_ until he covers the spot with his palm, feeling the movement of his cock within her. 

He reels, pressing deeper. A familiar darkness encroaches the corners of his vision, his tongue spewing filth in her ear in a desperate effort to relieve the growing tension in his veins, to hold on just a little longer. 

“I wanna feel you underneath me. Next time we’re doing this in a kriffing bed. Want your hair spread across my pillows and your cum on my sheets. Don’t ever wanna get your scent out of my bed.”

“Yeah?” she asks, daring to goad him further. 

“Yes. Take it, take it, _take it!_ Fuck, starlight, you take me _so well.”_

He fucks into her in earnest, his hips pistoning her up off the pilot’s chair as his hands grip her hips to slam her back down on his cock. She’ll have his fingerprints bloomed into her skin for days, their companions none the wiser, and she shudders at the intimacy of it all. 

His eyes are wild, unable to focus on one point as his gaze roves between her face, eyes glassy and squinted in hazy pleasure, teeth bared and repeatedly caressing his name from between kiss-bruised lips, to where he disappears inside her. The glimpses of his cock, crimson and vicious and shiny with her slick, so much she’s dripping down onto him, smearing her inner thighs, leaking down to his closely trimmed public hair, to his rapidly tightening balls.

He isn’t sure which view affects him more.

Mine mine mine mine mine! 

“Yours,” she gasps, threading the fingers of her left hand between those of his right.

Oh. He must’ve given voice to his possessive thoughts. A faint tremor of shame curls up his spine, but her gentle tone, juxtaposing the filthy sounds of their coupling help brush his anxiety away. Perhaps even goes as far as stoking the flames of his animalistic want to have her as much as she owns his very soul.

“Only yours,” she continues, pressing her cheek against his. “Always yours.”

He roars at her confirmation, at her eagerness to indulge his possessive nature, his teeth bared and savage as he curls over her, the push of his added weight threatens to jar the chair from its bolted position to the floor as it audibly creaks beneath them. 

“Ben! Stars, Ben, there there there,” her pitch raises octaves as he continues to drive right into that spot, his tight grip keeping her steady below him. “Kriff, Ben, you’re gonna make me _come!”_

He strives to thrust into her harder, deeper, unsure if its even physically possible to do so, but he’s desperate to please his girl. “That’s it, starlight, fuck, come all over my cock. Please.” 

Relinquishing his double handed hold on her waist, one hand falls to cover her abdomen again, thumb and forefinger flicking past the hood over her clit to pinch the bundle of nerves at her apex. 

Rey crests the mounting pleasure in her core with her jaw open in a silent scream, limbs seizing around Ben. The sensation travels the bond, whiting out Ben’s vision in the wake of her own, stuttering the already near-erratic rhythm of his hips. 

He is babbling, “Good girl, kriff, such a good girl, coming for me like that. Gonna fill you up so good Rey, you’re gonna _swell_ with it. With my cock and my cum so deep in your pussy. Holy shit, Rey, don’t ever want to be outside of you, I can’t—perfect starlight, so tight so wet, kriff, love you so much—“

With a final thrust, he buries himself to the hilt and Rey whimpers at the nudge of him at her cervix, the hot flood of his cum saturating her inner walls, still twitching with aftershocks of her own completion, pulling his spend deeper inside. His filthy words and wide girth are enough to inspire a second, weaker orgasm to roll through her. 

Ben shakes in the wake of his orgasm, his shoulders shuddering, leading to a tremble in the forearm that supports his weight above Rey, to the other hand still pressed below her navel, thumb rubbing soothing circles into her shining skin, damp with a mixture of sweat and spunk. 

“C’mere,” she murmurs, the words slurred with sloppy bliss, as her hands meet at the base of the back of his neck and pull him down flush on top of her. “Like feeling you on me after. It’s nice,” she says into his clavicle. 

Ben pulls his trapped hand out from between them, unsure where to put his hands in their cramped quarters. One arm ends up pressed along the side of her body, from his elbow resting near her navel to his palm cupping her jaw, fingertips massaging the soft skin behind her ear as Rey practically purrs, leaning into his touch. The other is wedged at the small of her back, between her and the chair, curling to ensure they remain pressed together. 

Neither feel the urge to break the silence, content with in the press of flesh to flesh, the faint hum of the Silencer, and the prickle of the Force through each other, and all things. The galaxy at their fingertips.

The idea no longer holds the allure over Ben that it once did.

He had offered the whole of the stars to Rey, and she had turned away. In the past months spend greedily basking like a loth cat with every affection she lavished upon him, he had come to understand why.

She is all he wants.

He is all she wants.

Let the stars have their own desires. 

“Hey,” she nudges him from his reverie with a brush of her nose against his own, hazel eyes crinkling at the corners when his gaze meets hers, that precious button nose scrunching with fondness. 

“I love you, too,” she says.

He grins, a rare sight, all crooked teeth and deeply etched dimples, and Rey has never seen a more beautiful creature in all the galaxy. She’s only afforded the lovely view for a few moments before his face is buried in the curve of her neck, pressing kisses to her skin and tickling the sensitive flesh with the curl of his long hair. Her shrieked giggle is instantaneous and Ben would die to hear it again. So he continues on, a trail of lips and teeth and he tickles from her jugular to her breast, bestowing a tender kiss upon each rosebud peak. Her laughter eases into a sigh, fingers carding through his hair when he presses his cheek against her heartbeat.

 

“I want to eat you out,” he murmurs into her skin, lips dancing reverently across the valley of her breasts. “But I don’t think there’s enough room for me to properly go down on you here.” 

Rey laughs, fingers still twisting through his dark hair. “That’s okay. Another time.” Her voice drops to a whisper as she leans down, lips caressing the shell of his flushed ear with each drawn out word: “I wanna see if we can make this thing rock while its docked in the hanger.”

Ben groans. “Kriff, woman. You’ll be the death of me.”

There’s a crackle of static as a third voice clears their throat and Ben goes rigid above her. “After what you’ve both made me witness, one can only hope. Solo, you’re one lucky bastard that its _me_ manning the bridge and not your mother,” Poe continues blithely on. Rey can make out the blue blur of his holographic profile over Ben’s shoulder. “Never thought I’d see the day where you legitimately _booty call_ me.” Rey is reminded of Ben’s very naked bottom pointed towards the ship’s cam. Over the speakers, Poe makes an odd sound, somewhere between amusement, horror, and vexation. “Anyway—I’m sending rendezvous coordinates your way. See you in a few hours. Dressed, if I’m blessed. Next time, just be careful not to throw Rey against the comm panel during your, erm… trysts.”

Ben’s fist slams so hard down on the disconnect control that the entire panel shakes, but not before Poe’s laughter echoes through the cabin. 

“Ah, kriff,” Ben says again before promptly burying his face in the soft skin of her neck.

Rey can’t help but agree.

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to come yodel with me on [tumblr](https://tess-herondales.tumblr.com/).
> 
> posting this as a one shot for now. i'm not saying that i have a second chapter planned if the people ask for it, but i have a second chapter planned if the people ask for it.


End file.
